Life After Death
by kinzeylee
Summary: She thought she knew what would happen when she died. She was wrong. He thought he could never live again, much less love. He was wrong too. After Death, Life does not end. Re-edited. Or at least, I'm trying. It isn't going very well.
1. Endings and Beginnings

What if Wanderer died? What if Jared didn't arrive in time? What could have happened, but didn't. **From both Wanda and Ian's POV.**

Ps. I wasn't very content with Stephanie Meyer's ending to the Host. So here I go, writing my own ending.

Pss. I own nothing.

**Life After Death**

_As I took another breathe, I saw the three stars again. They were not calling to me; they were letting me go, leaving me to the black universe I had wandered for so many lifetimes. I drifted into the black, and it got brighter and brighter. It wasn't black at all - it was blue. Warm, vibrant, brilliant blue… I floated into it with no fear at all…_

* * *

**Ian**

They look at me with pity. I hate pity.

They glance at me from out of the corner of their eyes, like I won't notice or something. They act as if I've developed some incurable disease, and am at deaths door.

Truth be told, I feel like I'm already dead.

Like my heart has been torn out, and my soul destroyed.

My Soul.

As ironic as it sounds, Melanie's the only one I can stand to be around. She knows how it feels, to be half-dead. She feels the pain of losing a dear friend, a sister. Actually, I don't think there's a word to describe what Wanda and Melanie were to each other. They were so close and cared so much, and hurt so much, always together in unison, that I think they became more than just themselves. They became each other as well. Melanie has all of her memories and knows all of her stories. Sometimes she says something and I think that Wanda never left.

Sometimes I think that this is some sick horrible trick, and Melanie would turn out to still be Wanda and Wanda would say to me, "Ian, it was only a joke. I'm still here! Get it? A joke?"

But it's not a joke, it's not a trick. It is real and I've seen the proof. I saw her body. I held her in my hands and cried.

I buried her.

How can you exist when your soul is gone? How do you live after you've died?

How did any of it come to this?

* * *

**Wanda**

I was completely surrounded by blue. It was a vibrant warm color, quite the opposite of what I'd expected. I'd been expecting a dark endless sleep, an empty void, or an infinity of nothingness. Souls weren't supposed to have an afterlife. When we died, that was it.

But I was here.

Where was here?

I moved my feelers experimentally, and they flowed up and down at my command. I was not hurt. I was not bleeding. And I definitely wasn't sleeping, or in any sort of cryotank: I was completely conscious.

_Hello? _I called, hoping someone would hear me, help me, explain to me what this was…

_Hello?_

Far away from me, somewhere beyond the ether and the blue, I thought I heard a whisper of a response.

_Hello._

But perhaps it was only an echo.


	2. Knowledge and Remembrance

**Ian**

I can feel his eyes on me, watching me as we work. Making soap is easily the worst chore, and usually talk and laughter fills the silence, helping to pass the time. It's dead quiet as we work. Finally, I feel the need to break the silence.

"Jared, would you quit staring at me?" I ask.

He shifts uncomfortably, having been caught red-handed.

"Sorry," he mutters.

_Sorry._ I feel my temper suddenly spike at that word, at that one stupid word.

"Sorry? _Sorry_?" I ask, my voice dangerously calm. It's smooth and low, the calm before a storm.

Jared shrugs uncomfortably. "Yeah, I'm sorry for staring."

_I'm not the one you need to apologize to_, I think bitterly, but don't voice my inner thought. _Oh wait, you can't apologize, she's __**dead**_.

When we finally finish with the soap my hands are red and itchy. I just want to get away from the harsh smell, and of being confined in close quarters with Jared, so I immediately get up and head for my room. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jared get up and follow me.

_Just leave me alone, damn it, just get away from me…_

"Ian, wait!"

I stop and turn slowly around to face Jared. He catches up to me. I wait for him to say something, but his mouth just hangs open and he stares at me with such a look of sorrow and agony that I want to scrape his pretty face along the ground until the look comes off. Who is he to be sad? Who is he to be in agony? He doesn't know the meaning of the words.

"What do you want, Jared?" I grind out from between my teeth.

His mouth keeps on making fish-like motions and no actual words come out, so I turn again to leave.

"Wait, Ian, no!" he says desperately, and I feel compelled to turn around.

"I just, just wanted to…I need you to know…If I had known, I wouldn't have let her do it," he finally gets out in a tight voice, anguish gleaming in his eyes. "I would've stopped her, I didn't want that, I cared about -"

"You what?" I ask sharply, cutting him off before he can say anymore. I can't hear anymore of this bullshit. "You cared for her, was that what you were going to say?"

His jaw tightens and he nods once. "Yes."

Spots begin to dance across my eyes and I struggle to keep from punching him.

"You cared for her," I repeat, my voice emotionless. "Really? Because I seem to remember you not caring at all, not even once. It was you that played with her emotions just to see if Melanie was in there, right? It was you who let her go on that insane mission to the Soul hospital, correct?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "Ian, I didn't know that I would hurt Wanda so much with that kiss, I swear. And you know if we didn't go to the hospital Jamie would have died-"

"And it was you who pushed for her to be taken out of Melanie!" I shout, my anger bursting through the mental damn I've created. "If it wasn't for you, she never would have done it! You could have stopped her with just a request! A wish! And you didn't! This, all of this, is your fault!"

Jared looks shocked as I finish my rant, and I now realized that I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

"Ian, if I knew she was planning to die, I never would have asked. I would have made her stay no matter what. I honestly didn't know."

He's practically begging me to understand. He's begging for forgiveness. Wanda would have been merciful. Wanda would have given forgiveness.

I'm not Wanda. Wanda is dead.

"Do you think I'm a complete idiot?" I ask in a voice low and full of rage.

"What?" he asks, confused by this sudden change in tone.

"I know you knew, Jared. You were the first one there. You were the first one to find her, so it's obvious that you were there waiting for Melanie. You _knew_. You knew Wanda was going to be taken out that night. You probably even talked to her just before it happened, didn't you?"

He doesn't respond, but I can see it in his eyes. I am right.

"I wanted to go with her, but she wouldn't let me. She didn't want me there…" he trails off, his expression taking on a haunted look.

"And you let her!" I yell, completely consumed by rage again. "You just let her walk away! Why the hell didn't you follow her?"

"Because I thought she was only going to be shipped off-world! I didn't have any idea that she was planning to die!" he shouts back at me, his face now contorted by a mixture of fury and regret. This does not curb my temper.

"Only off-world? _**Only off-world?**_That proves it! You didn't give a damn about her, you never did! All you ever cared about was getting Melanie back, and you never gave a second-thought to Wanderer! You were never worthy of her love!" I scream. "Well now I hope your happy because you got what you wanted. You got Melanie. She's safe and sound, and now Wanda's the one who's lost. Only this time, we can't get her back! I-" I break off, fully aware that tears are brimming in my eyes and I'm seconds away from uncontrollable sobs.

"I can never get her back," I finish, and this time my voice is dead. I've used up all my energy in hate, and it leaves me with nothing. I feel the void open up inside me, the space where Wanda used to be. It's now dark and hopeless, and dead. I'm dead. I might as well be-

"I need to go," I state, and with that I turn around and leave.

_Wanda, why couldn't you stay? For me?_

* * *

**Wanderer**

"Is someone there?" I ask.

There is no answer, just endless blue. I look for something, anything, a sign of life. "Hello?"

_Hello, young wanderer…_

The voice is calming and sweet, silver and clear, and I immediately know that this place is good. Safe.

"Hello? Where are you? I can't see you…" I call.

_Do not be afraid, little one. I am here._

And then suddenly I can see. The blue parts and a beaming silver light appears. The light shines out and moves gracefully and delicately, and I do feel little and young, _so_ young, in comparison to this creature of beauty.

"Who are you?" I ask. I feel like I should know. Millions of fragments of memories, broken from time, try to reassemble themselves as I hunt for the identity of this being.

Soft laughter floats through the air.

_Do you not know?_

"I - no. But I remember things-"

_Yes, race memory, passed down to Souls from their Mother's, and the Mother's before them. All of you remember me. I am your Mother._

"My mother?"

_Not your Mother, but the Mother of All. I am the first._

The silver light dies and I see her, and all of the fragments snap into place. I gasp.

"You're the first of my kind," I whisper in wonder, "The first Soul."


	3. Conversations and Riddles

AN: That last chapter felt so good to write! Here's another one, and sorry it took me so long.

**Ian**

Back in the dark of my room, I sit silently against a rough stone wall. I have never been so alone.

Jared has Melanie, and now they're practically inseparable. They go everywhere together, and I can't help but watch them even though it hurts. When I see them, I see _us_, and what we could have been. If only.

Even Kyle has someone. Sunny's glued to his side at all times, and they share a room together. I want to warn him of the slippery slope he's going down, because I can see it, even if he can't. One day he will fall in love with the girl, and she will leave him. Or hurt him. Or do _something_.

It seems like I'm the only one who remembers.

I hear when someone else enters the room and sits down a few feet away from me, but it is too dark to see clearly. If anyone, it's probably Jeb.

"So, I heard you two fought today."

_-oh no, not right now, I just can't deal with this right now-_

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

I turn so I can see her outline in the gloom.

"Melanie, please, not right now-"

"Do you know what it feels like to loose yourself?" she asks anyway, as if I haven't said a thing. She doesn't wait for me to respond.

"You know that you're fading, drifting away into nothing, but you can't stop it. You can't do anything. You feel violated and angry and so, so scared, because you know that sooner or later, she'll win, and you'll just cease to exist."

I don't know how to respond to this. I don't even know why she's telling me this.

"And it's even worse when you come back, and you know that you've been somewhere else, that you actually _left_, but you can't even remember it. It's just a black section in your memory. But you know you where gone, and you never want to leave again."

I can only think that she's talking of the time when Wanda accidentally made her go away for three days. When she was finally brought back, she didn't remember a thing. What was this, some kind of guilt trip? A _you've-been-relatively-lucky-in-life-so-stop-moping-around _speech? I really don't need to hear this. I feel my temper steadily begin to rise.

"But I would do it all again in heartbeat because she was worth it."

My head snaps to her and now I'm very interested in what she's saying.

"She-was a part of me, somehow. She grew to be part of me. She was more than just a sister, she was- I don't know, a soul mate? That sounds stupid, I know, but she would understand what I mean. She would get it. Because we knew each other in a way that I will never know anyone else ever again. Not even Jared. It was a terrible way to live, but without her-" She breaks off, and I can hear the anguish in the things she left unsaid in the now complete silence that surrounds us.

"I'm sorry," I say, because it's the only thing I can say. She laughs ruefully.

"And I'm sorry, too. I just- I just wanted to tell you-"

"You don't have to say it," I tell her. "I know."

Because I do know. She's trying to tell me that she hasn't forgotten yet, either.

We still remember.

* * *

**Wanderer**

Love radiates out of her, and I know that I am right even before she answers.

_Yes_, she says, and if I could still cry in this form, in my real body, I would weep. The voice, the music, the love, all of it, is all too much.

"Mother," I say, and somehow all of my emotions pour out into that word, because she floats closer to me, shining with compassion and sympathy.

_Do not despair, young wanderer. This place is far from the reaches of sadness and anger. They are alien feelings to you. Come, and let yourself be filled with love._

I feel all those emotions dissipate as she speaks, leaving only myself. I haven't felt so good, so _myself_ in so long.

"Where are we?" I ask, because I have been wondering that for awhile now. "What is this place?"

_Does it matter? It simply is._

"It matters to me," I answer truthfully.

_The beyond, then._

"Beyond what?"

_Beyond everything…_

"I do not understand."

_I know. But come, and I will show you._

"Show me what?" I ask. I do not like these riddles, and they are becoming confusing.

"Show me what?"

_Everything_, she answers, and I find myself following her, deeper into the blue.


	4. Moments and Centuries

AN: alright, here's another one. Hope you enjoy!

**Ian**

The next day, I try to avoid Jared as best I can. This isn't easy because he seems to be deliberately seeking me out.

Eventually, while on my way to deliver something to Doc, Jared turns around the corner, heading right in my direction. I just keep on walking forward. _I will not acknowledge him, I will not acknowledge him, I will not-_

"Ian, wait!" he calls out as I brush by him. Yesterday seems to be playing itself out all over again. I turn to face him, my face perfectly emotionless.

"What?" I snap, and he flinches, as if my voice had just reached out to slap him.

"About yesterday, I-uh- I just wanted to tell you that…that…."

"That _what_?" I ask in frustration.

"That you were right." The words seem to pop out of his mouth, and he looks surprised at first. Then his face shifts to an expression that I've never seen him wear before. Is that…_humility_?

"I just needed to tell you that you were right - about everything."

"Thank you," I say simply. I don't know what else to say. After all, I was hardly expecting this.

He stands there awkwardly for a moment, then nods, and quickly leaves down the hall I just came from. I watch him go until he is completely out of sight.

I find that I don't hate him as much as I did before.

One Month

Time begins to pass, but not in the normal way. It passes either too quickly, or too slow. I feel like I am dragged along the bottom of a river or flung around on a roller coaster. The pain doesn't lessen, either, as I thought it would. It becomes duller and fuzzier, but it doesn't decrease.

I continue to live, feeling dead.

Two Months

Jeb mentions in an offhand sort of way that he doesn't think I'm handling Wanda's death very well. He doesn't think I'm making any progress. I ignore this comment.

I can stand to be in the same room with Jared now. If that's not progress than I don't know what is.

Three Months

It's over. It's all over, as I knew it would be one day. I just didn't expect it to be so soon. Everyone has forgotten Wanda except for me. And Melanie.

Out of the throng of faceless humans who don't give a damn, I can always catch her glance. She nods, and the look in her eye tells me that she knows, that she understands. It passes wordlessly between us, an unspoken yet unbreakable bond.

It's the mantra I repeat to myself as I fall to sleep at night in the dark.

_We still remember._

_We still remember._

_We still remember._

* * *

**Wanderer**

Time passes differently here. I notice it as I follow the first mother deeper in to the blue. It passes easily, like wind or water. Centuries could easily be mistaken for moments in this place. I suppose that's because it's _the beyond_.

_You are not altogether incorrect. The beyond lays outside the reaches of time. Time does not touch us here. It does not exist._

I gasp. "But I didn't say anything out loud! How -"

_You didn't need to._

We continue on, and I absorb this new piece of information. If in this place you can talk without speaking, and time holds no sway over you, what other rules do not apply?

Gradually, I begin to notice a difference to our surroundings. The endless blue, it seems, is not so endless, and black begins to gradually replace it. I do not like the black nearly as much as I liked the blue.

_There is nothing to fear. It will not hurt you. It is quite beautiful, actually._

And then I see that the black is filled with light. There are dots of light, and globs of light, and colorful weavings that painted the dark with color and beauty.

_This is the Universe. This is where you came from. _

We drift into the galaxies and nebulas, past black holes and supernovas. I cannot find words to describe the beauty. There are no words.

_I need to show you something._

_Show me what?_

_What you must see._

Suddenly, we are before a tiny solar system, and my eye is drawn to one of the little planets spinning around the sun. It is small and blue and I recognize it instantly.

_This is Earth_, she says.

_I know_, I answer.

_Reach out and touch them, those who live on the planet. Look for your family._

I do not wonder what she means by _family_. I immediately reach out to my humans. They became my family. They are the ones I truly love.

I find them easily. They are all alive, shinning brightly out in the desert. Mel, Jared, Jamie, Doc, Jeb and…

I gasp as I find him. His light is dim and weak; broken. He is not the man who I left. He is dead on the inside, and I know: it is all my fault.

"Ian," I croon, grief washing over and threatening to drown me .

What have I done?


	5. Pushing and Pulling

**AN: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but here's the next one.**

**Wanderer**

I watch his light flickering feebly, and want to die. Again.

_Ian_. Oh, how could this have happened? I feel anger creep up inside me and mingle with the grief. The two emotions do not war with each other, but combine into one awful pit of despair inside me. Why couldn't he just get over me? Why did he have to go and do this? I want to scream, to cry, but I do not. In this form I cannot. I just stay there, perfectly silent, the yawning hole inside me threatening to take me over and pull me down.

_Do not despair, young wanderer. You can still help…_

_**How? **__I already tried to help! I tried to set things right, and this is what happened…_

_Go back to him._

_I cannot go back. I'm dead. I can never go back, _I say, because I know it's true. I made my choice, and now I can never go back to the land of the living. My choice. My fault.

_No, you can never go back in that sense. But there are other ways…_

_What do you mean? _I ask, not daring to hope, not daring to believe-

_You can go back to him. You cannot stay, but you can go back, for a few moments._

_How? _I practically shout. _Tell me what I need to do!_

_Meet him halfway. You cannot enter his world and he cannot enter yours. Bring him into the space between._

_And how do I do that? _I really, really hate these riddles.

_Reach out to him. Touch his soul and pull him towards you. You can do it._

I reach out again to Ian and find him. Letting all else slip away, I concentrate only on him and me, together. Suddenly, I feel a pull, on both him and I as we are dragged together, across the expanse of space and time.

_Wait! _I cry out as I am sucked away from Her. _What do I say?_

_What he needs to hear…_

_More riddles_, is my last coherent thought before I lose myself completely to the pull. The stars leave, and I am left in a world of hazy gray. I am standing, on two legs, in a body. Not just in any body, but Mel's body. _My_ body.

And he is standing in front of me, exactly as I remembered him.

"Ian?" I gasp. _This is real, this is real, this is real- isn't it?_

He frowns. "Melanie?" he asks cautiously, confusion written all over his face.

"No," I shake my head frantically, joy and anguish warring in my heart. "Ian, it's me."

"Wanderer?"

All I can do is nod.

"Wanderer? _Wanda?!_"

"Yes," I whisper, and not for the first time, I wish I could cry, sob, _scream_.

Then I remember that I _can_ cry in this form. So I do.

**AN: Alright, we're almost done! Approximately two more chapters to wrap this up, and I'll also clean up the earlier ones and get rid of all the stupid spelling mistakes. Until next time!**


	6. Tears and Heartache

**AN: I really had no idea how to start this chapter, so I tried to put it off for as long as possible. But I need to do it sometime so I'm just gonna dive into it. Here goes.**

**Ian**

I watch her cry, and I don't know what the hell to do.

Wanda is dead. I know this. I buried her.

And yet here she is. In Melanie's body. Crying.

_-why is she crying? why the hell is she crying? I'm the one who should be crying like that, not her, because she left me, it wasn't the other way around, _**she left **_**me**_-

I realize that I've finally gone crazy.

Nuts. Bonkers. Three fries shot of a happy meal. Insane.

She looks up at me, her eyes shinning and tear tracks running down her cheeks.

"I am so sorry, Ian," she whispers. "You don't know how sorry I am."

I figure that as long as I'm crazy, I might as well go along with this.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," I say, and I walk over to her. She buries her face in her hands, still sobbing.

"If I had known, I never would have left. You know that, right?" She looks back up at me and my heart breaks. She's not real, _I know this_, but still-

"I thought I was going what was best for you," she said, her voice quiet and broken. "I thought…I thought you would be okay."

I should be so angry at her, I should tell her how stupid she was for leaving, for doing _this_, but I just can't. She never intended to hurt me, I realize. She would never want to hurt me. She honestly thought she was doing the right thing.

"Oh Wanda," I sigh, drawing her into my arms. "When will you ever learn? The best thing for me was always you. And it always will be."

She cries into my shoulder, and I hold her close. She feels real. Perfectly alive and warm and still breathing and _mine_.

"Ian," she whispers into my shirt, "I would come back if I could. I would come back and change things if I could, and I would stay. But I can't."

I chuckle. "Why not? You're my hallucination, my dream. I can make you stay if I want."

She looks back up at me, a frown on her face.

"What do you mean? I'm not a hallucination. Ian, I'm _real._"

I shake my head ruefully. "No, your not. Your dead, Wanda. This isn't really you. You can't be here."

She pulls back a bit so she can stare directly into my eyes. Hers bore into mine, with such sincerity and faith that I can't help but listen to every word she says.

"Listen Ian, it's me. I'm really here. I'm not a hallucination or a dream," she says, "but I'm not real, either. I'm dead, I know that."

"Than how-"

"I came back to tell you what I didn't get to say before. It doesn't matter if you believe I'm here or not, you just need to listen."

I can't believe this is even happening. Is this possible? Am I just crazy? Is it both?

I decide to listen anyway. I want to hear her voice, I want to just _see her_, one last time.

"I…I was wrong. I know that now, and I'd redo everything if I could. I'd come back if it was possible. But it's…it's not, so I can only visit you here, for a short time. I needed to tell you…" she swallows and I can see more tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"I need to tell you that I love you, and I'll wait for you forever. I promise you, I'd wait until the end of time. But Ian, in the mean time…you need to move on and live your life again. Stop grieving for me."

I stare at her, dumbfounded. I can feel anger creeping back into me at her words. This is ridiculous.

"So the dead girl is trying to tell me to move on and live my life?" I ask, deadpan.

She seems to sense my anger and she shrinks back. "Yes, that was the idea," she says weakly.

I sigh, trying to push out all the negative feelings. "Why are you even here saying this? I'm fine, Wanda. I don't need anyone's advice, especially yours." I wince inwardly after I say that last part; I hadn't meant for it to come out.

She looks hurt too, but she continues. "I know your lying, Ian. I can see into your soul. I can see _you_." She steps closer to me again, grabbing my hands in her own. "Please, Ian, do this last thing for me. Please."

I step back from her and turn away to gather my thoughts. I can feel my hands shaking now. Actually, all of me is shaking.

"You want me to do this last thing for you, when you wouldn't even stay for me? Wow. Just…wow."

"I know, it's a lot to ask," she says, and I can hear desperation in her voice. She probably thinks that she's doing a good job at hiding it, too.

Inwardly I say, _You were never good at hiding things, Wanda._

Outwardly I say, "It's too much to ask. You left me Wanda, don't you get it? I don't owe you anything. Not anymore."

She doesn't respond to this, and the silence hangs between us, heavy and tangible.

"You're angry at me," she says finally.

_No shit, Sherlock. _"Yes, I am. I loved you, Wanda. Did you know that? I loved you more than Jamie, more than Jared, I loved you! And you left like I meant nothing to you!" I finally snap. I can't pretend anymore. I want to yell at her and scream at her and tell her the truth: I loved her and would have done anything for her. Instead, she left.

I breathe in deeply and turn back to face her. She's still staring at me with tear-filled eyes. She watches me as I regain control of my temper.

"I know," she says simply.

I wait for her to elaborate.

"I know that you were the only one who really cared, besides Melanie. I'm not stupid, Ian. And I know that you don't owe me anything," she says as she approaches me. "But I still owe you. I owe you happiness. I owe you a good life. And you owe it to yourself."

She places her hands on my chest, one of them directly over my heart, and I can't help but wrap her up in my arms again. I never want to let go. I press my lips to her hair, inhaling her scent.

"Wanda," I choke out, my throat hurting and my eyes stinging. "Please don't go. Not again."

"I don't have a choice," she whispers, and I can hear the heartbreak in her words. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

Somehow, our lips meet. I crush her to me as we kiss, determined to leave a imprint of her lips on mine. I never want to forget how this feels. I never want to forget her.

"I love you, Wanda," I gasp as she breaks contact. I'm holding her just as tight as before, but somehow I feel like she's slipping away from me, like dust in the wind.

"I love you too, Ian," she whispers in my ear. "I always will."

The grey around us begins to melt, and I can feel myself being pulled in the opposite direction. I try to keep us here, anchored in this spot forever, but Wanda slips from my arms, and I know that this is it. I will never see her again.

Not in this world. Not on Earth.

I don't look away from her as this world dissinigrates. I just watch her fading into the blue.

I fade into black.

* * *

I sit straight up in bed, and for a second can't remember where I am. Why is it so dark? Wasn't I just with-?

Oh.

I shake off the cobwebs of the dream, and lay back down. It was nothing. Just a dream. An overactive imagination. Yep, that's it.

Just a dream.

Definitely.

I roll over, and let myself drift back off to sleep. As I slip back into unconsciousness, I swear for a moment I can almost hear someone whisper something, inside my head.

_Don't grieve for me…_

I close my eyes, and tell myself its nothing but my imagination.

That's it.

_Or maybe it was so much more._

**AN: Yikes, I'm really not sure what to think of that. At least it's not **_**too**_** bad. Next chapter will definitely be better than that. it will also probably be the last. Until next time! Thanks : )**


	7. Life and Death

**I know, I know, it's been two weeks (approximately) but I've finally gotten around to it. Here it is: the last chapter. I really enjoyed writing it, and hopefully you enjoyed reading it. Thank you for the reviews! : )**

**Ian**

When I wake up in the morning, something is definitely different. The air seems crisper, the colors sharper, and my heart feels…_lighter_. Huh, that's weird. But it's true. For the first time since Wanda's death, I feel good. Or at least _not bad._

Something tugs at the corner of my mind as I go about the day. It feels like one of those dreams that you remember it perfectly when you're asleep, but can't really remember when you're awake. I try anyway: Was it a good dream? A bad dream? I seem to remember it as a little of both, but no matter how hard I try, I can only recall it in short flashes.

I try to put it out of my mind; after all, I have work to focus on. Jared and Kyle just came back from a raid in the morning, and lots of crates have to be moved into storage. All the guys who physically can are helping with the transport. I grumble something about _stupid fat crates _and _backs breaking _as I pick up one of the bigger heavier ones, and begin to trudge down and around the corner to "the pantry." Turning the corner, I remember how this used to be Wanda's cell, and how it also became her sanctuary. Whenever she was scared, she'd come here.

Somehow, that thought doesn't leave me breathless with water pricking in my eyes as it would usually. In fact, it's kinda the opposite. I smile at the memories, and can't help but chuckle to myself. I set down the box, and after looking over the room once more, I turn to leave, more content than I've felt in a long time.

_Don't grieve for me…_

I stop in surprise, and turn around to see where the noise came from. It sounded like a whisper, like someone was in here in the room with me, _like…_

The room's completely empty. I really am alone. I shake myself, and then laugh at how stupid I'm being. It's just my imagination. I _really_ need to get some more sleep.

As I walk away, still smiling to myself, it occurs to me that I'm finally back.

I'm finally back from the dead.

* * *

**Wanderer**

And I see that it was not in vain. Ian is healed. He moves on. He doesn't grieve for me anymore.

That thought almost makes me want to cry.

It must be a remnant of humanity in me that makes me feel this way, that makes me want Ian to grieve for me. It's petty and cruel and futile. It's an entirely human wish.

_Look, I'm human_, Melanie had once said to me. _It's hard to be fair sometimes. We don't always feel the right thing, do the right thing._

I can't ignore the irony that now of all times, when I'm dead and free of a host body, is when I start feeling the most human.

I want Ian to hurt and break and cry for me. I don't want him to move on. I don't want to be forgotten.

In these human moments of weakness, I remind myself that I owe him. I owe him a normal life of love and happiness. I owe him a life of no grieving or heartbreak. I owe him everything, and this is my penance. I will be stuck here, _beyond the beyond_, waiting for him.

So I do. In the place where the blue and the black connect, I wait. I watch as my humans live long bountiful human lives. I watch them as they achieve all of our wishes and hopes and dreams that we had for the future. I watch, and am filled with such pride and love for every single one of them.

I told Ian that I would wait forever if I had to. I would wait for forever for him, and then back again. So I do. Sometimes, it seems like centuries, and I want to crumble under the pressure of time.

But sometimes, it seems only like moments, and I know that I could wait a thousand more years in total content, wrapped in the blue and the black and _the beyond _and the _everything else_.

I wait for the time where we are brought back together again.

I wait for when I will be brought back to life.

Because I know, and so does he: we were both wrong. _There is life after death._

**Alright, there it is. Thanks for reading!**


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